


the space between

by heretowinbitch



Series: i taste the good and bad in you - and i want them both [1]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretowinbitch/pseuds/heretowinbitch
Summary: she doesn’t want to think of goodbyes  and  last times  and what happens once this is all over and he’s not in her bedroom anymore,  and she’s not his partner anymore,  and then they’re nothing to each other again.she doesn’t want to think.so she steps closer,  and he meets her half way.





	the space between

**Author's Note:**

> super short but just me needing to get it out of my system after 2x9... guess this is my return to writing fics after YEARS away  
> repost from tumblr - same username - prompts are always welcome as i ease back in!

there’s an entire room between them,  and she thinks it might be a comical sight to someone on the outside looking in   ——as if they cannot get  **far enough**  apart,  as if they’re using the space between them as a  _buffer_.   and maybe that’s a little bit true,   maybe that space is a safety net waiting to catch within it all of the   _second thoughts_   and   _hesitations_  and   _cold feet_   that might be expected.  

but it **isn’t** empty   —   the space between them  —   it’s filled from corner to corner with anticipation,  maybe a little bit of apprehension,  tension thick enough to cut through with a  _knife_ ,  and a lot of questions about what might happen  _next_.   

she stands by the door,   not as if prepared to   **bolt**    _(_   she’s made the decision to invite him into her space,   and she   _wants_   this,   ~~even if it’s the last time~~    _)_ ,   but so that maybe he won’t be able to see the slight   _tremble_   to her fingers as she works the buttons of her blazer,   and maybe he won’t hear the   **pounding**   of her heart as she watches him   _watching her_   from across the room.   that seems almost impossible,  however   —   the echo of it in her ears sounding like a bass drum has taken up residence there,  making it difficult to   _think_.

but beth doesn’t   **want**   to think.   she doesn’t want to think about the fact that this is only one of a few times she’s actually   _invited_   him into her home,   and the   **only**   time she’s invited him into her bedroom.   she doesn’t want to think about the way he stands there   _waiting_   for her to make a decision  —  the way he always has  —  and how while this one,  right here,  right now,  is the  _right one_  for her goodbye,  it feels   **so wrong**   at the same time.    she doesn’t want to think of **goodbyes**   and   _last times_  and what happens once this is all over and he’s not in her bedroom anymore,  and she’s not his partner anymore,  and then they’re nothing to each other again.

she doesn’t want to think.  

so she steps closer,  and he meets her half way,  and she doesn’t feel bold or brave or like a  _boss_.  she doesn’t feel the way she had in that bathroom.  this is different.  she’s   **nervous** ,   like she’s learning her way around someone else’s body for the first time,  even as she flushes at the very vivid memory of their bodies fitting together one time before.   and for a moment  —  when she looks up at him  —  she thinks she might not be the only one holding her breath,  like maybe there’s something more there than the smug smirk he usually wears when looking at her.  and maybe this is a   **huge**  mistake because it feels a lot heavier than she’d expected when the wheels of this plan had first begun to turn in her mind.  it feels weighted in a way she couldn’t have anticipated,  but maybe should have known.

so she kisses him,  because she   _wants_   to,  and because he’s right there and she can’t stop herself   **now**.  

and it’s nothing like she expected   —   softer,  somehow  —  and a part of her thinks that’s just for her benefit,  but a bigger part of her   _knows  better_.   

there’s a tiny voice in the back of her head whispering   _oh, no_   when she pulls back and finally looks up at him,  catching the way he’s looking at   **her**   just before he moves to kiss her again in a way that’s not as soft but just as intense,  and it’s a little bit awkward at first until they find their bearings,  but then she never wants to stop,  and   _oh, no_   if she’d thought she was in trouble  **before**.   

but that voice continues its mantra over and over again long after she’s tied the belt of her robe and stood from the bed,  when she’s unable to look at him as she says   _it’s  over_ ,  when she’s standing in the shower until the water runs cold.  when she returns to her bedroom to find him gone  —   just as she’d suggested  — the voice grows a little bit louder.   _oh, no_.

 


End file.
